


On Being Comfortable

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6968473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stay."</p><p>"Of course."</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Being Comfortable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TigerMoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerMoon/gifts).



Spirit snored. Loudly. Horrifically. Badly enough to wake the dead.

Which was, he supposed, an apt analogy considering there he was, Death himself, awake.

It was a good thing his weapon was slumbering, however. After pulling four all-nighters, only two of which were aided with caffeine and the final two with sheer determination and absolute spite at the thought of being beaten by something as commonplace as basic human necessity, Spirit had finally collapsed at the corner of the Death Room, curled in on himself.

Death sighed as he looked around. No one else would ever find themselves comfortable enough in that room to sleep, especially not in the dead of night, so he figured he’d be alone for a few more hours, at least.

He removed his cloak, softly setting it over his sleeping partner and sitting down next to him. Spirit moved around beneath the make-shift cover, letting out a groan as he tried to get comfortable and furrowed his brows in his sleep. He looked ridiculous, as though in a fierce battle, when he was really wrestling with glorified fabric, instead.

Death couldn’t help but smile, a single hand, free of gloves, for once, coming to Spirit’s cheek and pushing aside a lock of hair, smoothing over his ear with his fingertips.

The man seemed to lean into the touch, his eyelids fluttering. When Death pulled away, starting to stand, Spirit made a noise of discontent, and when he flopped, his hand caught Death’s wrist.

“Stay,” he slurred, turning to his side and curling so that he faced his Meister.

When Death looked down at his partner, he shifted his arm in the other man’s hold, sliding through Spirit’s loose grasp until he could twine their fingers.

“Of course,” he replied. “Of course.”


End file.
